Grief is Not the Opposite of Peace
by Izhilzha
Summary: A young Jedi padawan and her Master are helped on a supposedly routine mission by Jedi Knight QuiGon Jinn, with unexpected consequences.
1. Prologue

Summary: A young Jedi padawan and her Master are helped on a supposedly routine mission by Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, with unexpected consequences

Rating: PG (violence)

Time: The Old Republic, though the prologue and epilogue are set about 2 weeks after events in Episode 1: The Phantom Menace.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, situations, and events created by George Lucas. Nothing belongs to me, except the original characters Aryn K'hil and Tora Naprem. Not getting paid, in credits or any other form of compensation.

Author's Notes: I wrote this in about two weeks' time, right after I saw _The Phantom Menace_. It was written mostly so I could spend time with Qui-Gon Jinn. I admit that. But it's odd what surfaces in any story I write–looking back at it is like opening an emotional time capsule. This is the only real self-insertion story I've written, though I hope Aryn avoids Mary-Sue status. All comments and feedback eagerly solicited–particularly since I gave this a fairly decent edit before posting.

Grief Is Not the Opposite of Peace

by izhilzha

Aryn Kh'il, Jedi Knight, approached the entrance to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant quietly. The light of the planet's brilliant sun reflected from the many windows in the magnificent tower, scattering light and shadow on the group of sentients gathered before it. Most wore robes of brown, tan, or gray, with a few in white or blue, and all but the younger apprentices wore a lightsaber. The doors to the Temple had not yet been opened. There was little movement or speech except in low tones-though Aryn could sense the echo of voices silently projected through the Force.

She recognized many of her fellow Jedi, both knights and apprentices, nodded to several, and exchanged a handclasp with a red-haired padawan and her elderly Master. There was a hush in the air. The very building seemed to tremble with it. It was a hush of unknowing.

Standing alone near the door was a young man who stared out across the city scape with an air of being somewhere else entirely. Aryn smiled when she saw him and quickly picked her way through the crowd. He didn't notice her until she touched his shoulder. "Obi-wan! It's good to see you."

The young man started, turning to face her. He smiled, but it wasn't his usual quick expression. "Master Aryn."

Aryn stared into his eyes for a moment. They were shadowed with something his smile could not clear. She reached out with a tiny tendril of the Force, and stiffened as though she had been slapped. But the feeling was pain, not anger. "Are you all right?" she asked, in a voice near a whisper.

"I will be," he answered softly.

Aryn sighed, releasing her tension, and noticed something new about Obi-wan. He no longer wore the padawan braid. "Congratulations, Jedi!"

His smile this time was wholly genuine.

"No wonder Qui-Gon isn't with you-you're on your own now," Aryn continued. She would have said more, but Obi-wan's smile had vanished. Aryn again sensed pain, but it was overshadowed by a sense of terrible knowledge, of certainty. "Do you know why we've all been called here?" she asked.

Obi-wan said nothing.

A sudden intuition set Aryn's heart racing. "Why isn't Qui-Gon here? Is he part of the reason for this meeting?"

Obi-wan's face was white with an inner struggle. Finally he spoke one strangled word, "Yes."

At that moment the doors of the Temple swung open. Obi-wan took the hand of a boy standing in his shadow, whom Aryn had not seen before, turned, and was the first to enter.

Aryn stared after them, noting the boy's padawan braid. Qui-Gon not here, Obi-wan already a Jedi Knight with an apprentice, and so many Jedi called together. . . no wonder the hush of uncertainty was so strong. Aryn brushed a strand of black hair from her face and stood still, drawing on the Force for peace to banish her fear. Then she straightened herself and entered with the others, her heart shadowed with a memory of pain.

Aryn sat quietly in the ranks of her fellow knights. Crossing her legs and resting golden-brown hands in her lap, she looked up expectantly at the dais where six members of the Jedi Council, including Master Yoda, sat.

For a long minute nothing happened. The silence deepened in intensity. Then Master Yoda spoke.

"For such a gathering of Jedi, always there is a great reason." The crackling voice was full of power, and yet wary. "If any of you passed near the planet Naboo two weeks ago, know something already about this reason you do."

A slight murmur went through the assembly. Aryn frowned. She had not been near Naboo recently, but two weeks ago. . . . That would be the day she had felt so tired and worn when there was no real reason for it. Perhaps the Force had been giving her some warning.

The dark-skinned figure of Mace Windu stood beside Yoda. "A great danger may be threatening the Republic and the Order of Jedi. None of us knew anything beyond the vaguest future images until two of our number, Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, went to the planet Naboo to conduct negotiations between that planet and the Trade Federation." His face was grave. "Qui-Gon cannot be with us today, but his one-time apprentice, now a full Jedi Knight, is here and will tell you what occurred during that mission. Obi-wan Kenobi, approach."

Aryn drew a deep breath. So he did know. Peace, she reminded herself, a Jedi is at peace. The child she had seen with Obi-wan, his padawan, sat on the dais steps. Obi-wan mounted them, bowed to Yoda, and turned to face the assembly.

"When Master Qui-Gon and I were sent as the Supreme Chancellor's representatives to settle the dispute between Naboo and the Trade Federation, neither of us thought the mission would take long. Most of you have probably heard something about the dispute-but the whole story has been known to none but the Jedi Council and a few others until now." He stared out over the crowd, as if hunting for words in the air. "I had a feeling that something unusual was coming, but I didn't connect it with our mission until later, and I did not realize how much it portended. . . ."

Aryn listened to Obi-wan's simply-told tale with full attention, and reached out with the Force as well for the memory images the young Jedi was providing to supplement his words. She watched and listened with her eyes closed, still somewhat uneasy, but pleased to hear how well her friends had acquitted themselves in aiding young Queen Amidala to escape the clutches of the Trade Federation. When Obi-wan related how they had stopped at Tatooine to refuel, he beckoned to the boy at his feet, who rose and stood beside him.

"This is Anakin Skywalker, whom Qui-Gon befriended in the city of Mos Espa."

The boy spoke, almost too softly to hear, of how he had met Qui-Gon Jinn and helped him obtain parts to repair the Queen's ship, and of how Qui-Gon had won Anakin's freedom and taken the boy with him to Coruscant to be trained as a Jedi. Some of the memories Obi-wan projected during this were rather startling, including an image of Anakin's minichlorian scan. Over twenty thousand! Aryn was amazed. She looked at the boy with new respect, and smiled to think how surprised Qui-Gon must have been when he discovered what a find he'd made.

Then Anakin sat down and Obi-wan continued his tale, beginning with the strange being, trained in the Jedi ways, who ambushed them on Tatooine. Aryn heard mutters of shock and disbelief and felt her own breath falter, when the young Jedi hinted that the Council and Qui-Gon had agreed that this might be a Sith Lord.

The noise rapidly died down as Obi-wan continued, telling of the mission to free Naboo, the replacement of the Supreme Chancellor, and of how he and Qui-Gon again encountered the Sith Lord. He told of the fierce battle on the ground and in space, which Anakin had helped win; of the seizure of the royal palace; and of the intense fight between two Jedi and one Sith.

Aryn saw the rooms of the fight through Obi-wan's memories, and saw the laser walls that shut him off from Qui-Gon and the Sith. She felt his desperate speed as he ran forward, clearing all but the last, and watched with him, trapped, as the Sith used his lightsaber staff to deadly advantage. She saw Qui-Gon run through with one venomous blade, saw him fall, felt his burning pain and Obi-wan's helpless rage as he cried out in grief.

Aryn didn't think she had moved at all, but a hand rested on her shoulder, bringing a line of strength through the Force, and her own rage and grief momentarily abated. She listened to Obi-wan tell of the end of the fight, and was overwhelmed by his sense of shame-he had used his anger and fear to fight, nearly joining his Master in death. But in the end he remembered his training and defeated the Sith.

She heard Qui-Gon's last words, a trust in this young boy Anakin, but the wave of pain and loss from Obi-wan she hardly felt this time. Her own sorrow was too strong. She continued to listen, but bowed her head and wished for tears to ease the terrible weight within her. None came.

Now the tale ended, and Obi-wan told of his advancement to Jedi, and of how the Council had agreed to his promise and granted Anakin as his padawan learner.

Then Master Yoda stood and spoke of the Sith, warning more powerfully than Aryn could remember anyone doing of the snares of the dark side of the Force. He warned all Jedi to be more than ever vigilant but not to give way to fear. Then he dismissed the assembly.

Aryn sat for a minute, gathering her thoughts and strength. When she rose, her back creaked and for the first time in many weeks, she felt old. With the power of the Force in her bones, it was usually easy to forget (unless she looked in mirror at the fine lines in her golden-brown skin) that she was nearly sixty.

And she felt empty. Tired and empty. When Obi-wan touched her shoulder, though she could feel his loss, hers seemed to have bunched up somewhere inside, trying to become invisible. She turned and embraced him, stepping back only to question him again with her eyes. Are you all right? 

He nodded and smiled faintly. I will be. 

Aryn knelt before the small figure at his side. Placing one hand on each shoulder, she gazed into his face, burning into her mind the countenance of the child in whom Qui-Gon had placed so much trust. "May the Force be with you," she whispered at last. "You are strong already-now be sure to grow wise, Jedi."

The boy nodded, a little puzzled.

"This is Master Aryn Kh'il," Obi-wan said. "She's a friend of mine and a great friend of Qui-Gon's."

Now Anakin smiled, recognizing a kinship with Aryn. She had to smile back.

Outside the Temple, there was much more talking than before the meeting began. Aryn, walking alone, caught snatches of conversation about the Sith, about Qui-Gon, about the Senate and the Republic in general. Then she heard a young human apprentice turn to his companions and comment, "How could Qui-Gon be so stupid? Even I can see that there's something odd about that boy. I don't think the Council should have agreed to his training. He's too old, anyway."

Aryn stopped walking and slowly turned to face the speaker. The hollowness inside her seemed to fill suddenly with fire. The apprentice and his companions felt the heat and looked sharply at her. Aryn's gray hood was thrown back, and her gray eyes held the same deadly calm as her voice. "Qui-Gon Jinn was a wise and noble man, and a powerful Jedi. You will not speak of him that way."

The apprentice shrugged. "You heard the Council. Couldn't you feel the division there? That's the last thing we need right now, a difference on the Council-and Qui-Gon brought it."

"You will not speak of him that way." In a sudden surge of anger, Aryn reached out through the Force.

The apprentice stumbled backward, eyes wide in shock. Instantly all sound in the crowd before the Temple ceased.

Aryn's vision seemed to clear, and Master Yoda's words rang in her mind as she focused on the apprentice's face. Fear and anger, these lead to the dark side of the Force. 

She drew back sharply, stumbled, and hid her face in her hands. What had she been doing? She was a Jedi, she had trained other Jedi, what was she doing?

Aryn could not bring herself to look up, though she felt all eyes on her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she said, and the gasping apprentice, though she was certain he had heard, did not answer.

An arm went around Aryn's shoulders, and she knew before he spoke who it was. Obi-wan's voice was gentle. "Why did you provoke my friend to anger? She grieves the loss of a man she loved, as do many of us here. And why do I feel such fear from some of you?" His voice shook a little. "Aryn Kh'il is no Sith. She is Jedi, and great among us. No one has been hurt, and she has taken responsibility for what she did. There is less shame here than when I faltered in the battle."

In the following silence, Master Yoda's voice was clear. "Agree with Obi-wan we do. Dismissed this assembly is. Go."

As the footsteps of the other Jedi receded, Aryn allowed Obi-wan to help her to her feet. "Thank you," she said. "Qui-Gon taught you well."

"Yes, I believe he did." Obi-wan's smile was real, if weary.

Aryn bowed again and left the Temple to walk, lonely among the crowds, to her temporary quarters.

She sat in the small, tidy room brushing out her long black hair. The late afternoon sun gleamed through the window, a thousand reflected shards of light from the tall buildings of Coruscant. It tinted her face with a harsh glow and hurt her pale gray eyes.

Aryn welcomed the pain. If she could focus on that small external thing, it might lessen the deeper, unrelieved pain of loss and regret. Qui-Gon. . . . 

Abruptly Aryn dropped her hairbrush and picked up her lightsaber, turning it over and over in her hands. It still seemed strange to her, even after all these years, that Jedi knights, masters of both skill and emotion, should be subject to grief just like those less Force-talented. Yet so it was. She had spoken to other Jedi about it and, with the exception of a few who refused to discuss it, had found that it was true for them all. In fact, the Master she trained with had been the first to mention it to her.

Aryn suddenly smiled down at her lightsaber. Such a long time ago. . . what, forty years now? Such a very long time ago. . . .


	2. Part 1

Tora Napren smiled while keeping her gaze on the instruments of her ship, the _Star's Dream_. "A Jedi is patient, Aryn."

In the rear of the small craft, a young woman sighed. "Yes, Master." The resignation in her voice brought a burst of laughter from Tora. "Did it take you this long to build your lightsaber?"

Tora glanced back at Aryn, silver-gray hair brushing her shoulders. "Of course not, but I had seven days of straight meditation at the Temple to complete mine."

Aryn picked up a few small components and gazed ruefully at them. "Why did your generation have it so easy?"

"We didn't, usually. Many Jedi before now have had to construct lightsabers on the fly, or work around a mission." Tora's tone was serious now, her "teaching" voice. "I hope you paid enough attention to your Jedi history to know that."

Then her voice softened. "I've often been glad for those seven days, I admit. They helped prepare me for what followed."

"The trials?" Aryn asked, laying down her work. Tora rarely spoke of her transition from apprentice to knight, and her padawan did not want to miss a word.

"Yes, the trials-but more than that. A few weeks after I was made Jedi, an urgent call came from a world near the Rim. One of its neighboring planets, hearing that this world had applied for Republic status, had attacked them and they needed help settling the matter.

"I was one of those sent, along with ten other Jedi including my Master, Sari. Three of us were sent to aid in negotiations, the others to aid the planet under attack. Sari and I were both negotiators." Tora sighed slowly. "We called in part of the Republic fleet to back us up, but there was a-misunderstanding. The other two Jedi negotiators were killed, and I barely escaped with my life."

Aryn had never heard grief like that in Tora's voice, not bitter but still heavy and dark after all these years. "Master. . . ."

"It's all right," Tora said gently. "A Jedi must never be ruled by her feelings, but they are still a part of her. You may not hear many say this, but neither grief nor joy is the opposite of peace. A true Jedi finds her peace in the midst of these, not in their absence."

Aryn wiped the moisture from her eyes. The pale gem on the table before her, destined as the focusing crystal for her lightsaber, seemed to glow as the bittersweet residue of Tora's grief lingered in her mind. She began to work again.

It was Tora who broke the silence, some time later. "We'll be docking at the Kray'el Mining Base in a few minutes."

"The company that says their planetside camps are being terrorized by a cunning beast?" Aryn asked. "Do you really think this creature is Force-sensitive?"

"It's a definite possibility."

Aryn frowned. "I still wish we were going straight to Coruscant. You say I'm ready for the trials-so let's get them over with. Why bother stopping here?"

Tora looked at her sharply. "We are stopping here because you still haven't finished your saber, and because as Jedi our first concern is to help, defend, and nurture others. If you're really this impatient, put that saber down until your attitude improves. You don't want that in it, trust me."

Aryn didn't answer, but concentrated instead of connecting the power cell to its fine-line relays in the base of her lightsaber hilt.

A few minutes later Tora hailed the orbital mining base and received permission to dock. With a soft hiss and a thunk, the _Star's Dream_ came to rest in an otherwise empty landing bay.

Tora rose and stretched, walking back to where Aryn sat. "I'm going to talk to the mine owners, let them know we're here, and then I'll mingle with the crowd in the mess hall or whatever they have here and try to pick up some local opinions." She gazed at the busy apprentice. "Are you coming or are you finally as caught up in this work as you should be?"

Silence was her only answer, and Tora smiled. "All right. Rations are in the cupboard behind you. I'll lock the ship's door when I leave."

"Yes, Master," Aryn murmured absently, still deep in concentration over her lightsaber. Tora patted her shoulder and left the ship. The door closed, and its Force-designed lock snapped into place behind her.

Aryn's deft fingers turned the pale gem over, seeking the best fit. The Force guided her; this weapon would be hers, and hers alone.

Several hours later, Aryn sat back in her chair glowing with pride and satisfaction. Gently she rubbed the metal portions of the hilt with a silken cloth until they shone like quicksilver. Then she tidied away her tools and leftover parts and rose, her hands solid on the soft leathern grip, which she had made gray like her robe and eyes.

Before she could test the blade, she was aware of Tora's presence approaching the ship. Pleased that her master was arriving at such a good time, Aryn reached out with the Force, undid the lock, and swung the door out to rest on the bay floor.

Tora entered laughing. "Thank you, Aryn." She stopped short when she saw the shimmering hilt in Aryn's hands. "You finished it." Tora smiled knowingly at her padawan's eager expression. "The Force was and is with you," she said softly.

From outside the ship, someone called, "May I come in?"

Tora chuckled. "I'm sorry, of course you can. Didn't mean to leave you out in the cold."

The voice was deep but young, and when the speaker entered, Aryn became sure he was no more than 30 years old, probably younger. He was tall, well-built, and handsome in a fine-sculpture way, with sandy brown hair pulled back in a short ponytail and clear blue eyes. Smooth stubble on his strong jaw promised a beard soon; and, more to the point, he wore a brown Jedi robe. Self-consciously Aryn fingered her padawan braid, and then reached out to take the stranger's hand.

"Aryn, this is Qui-Gon Jinn. He was made Jedi about a month ago," Tora said. "Qui-Gon, this is Aryn Kh'il, my apprentice. After we finish here, she'll be returning to Coruscant to face the trials."

Qui-Gon smiled at Aryn, and something inside her melted. It wasn't that she had never seen a good-looking man at close quarters before-far from it. But some generous look in his eyes, some gentle strength in his hand, some tone of his voice stirred a feeling never before awakened. She wanted to stay near this man, to hear him speak again, to make him laugh.

The feeling was pleasant, but also unnerving. Quickly Aryn drew her hand from his and focused again on her new lightsaber.

"Have you tested the blade yet?" Tora asked.

Aryn shook her head. Tora and Qui-Gon each took a step back, and Tora nodded to her padawan.

Carefully she thumbed the switch. With a quick thrum, the blade pulsed to life, a shining line of silver-white fire shot with threads of gold.

"It's beautiful," Qui-Gon said. "I've never seen a blade that color. What kind of crystal did you use?"

Aryn stood basking in the brilliance of her weapon, exultation displacing any other emotion. "A family heirloom–the only thing I brought with me when I became an apprentice. It's a gem called a tearstone. I knew it would make a beautiful color, but I didn't expect this." She continued to stare at the blade, balancing it lightly to hear it hum. She held a manual distillation of the Force in this strong, deadly rod of light. Exultant in this revelation, she hefted and swung the saber in a gleaming arc.

"No!" Tora snapped. "Not in the ship. If you want to spar with me or Qui-Gon, you can do it out in the docking bay where there is room to swing."

Aryn sheepishly extinguished her blade. "I would like some practice, very much. Do we have time now?"

Tora considered this, and nodded. "For a while. Come." She stepped out of the ship, followed by Aryn as Qui-Gon bowed and let her pass.

In the docking bay, empty of this hour except for the three Jedi, Aryn practiced until she was weary. First she sparred lightly with Tora, until her body and hands remembered the long days of training at the Temple.

Then Qui-Gon drew his lightsaber, igniting its green blade and extending it towards Aryn in a gesture of challenge. Aryn raised her silver blade to meet his in acceptance, opening her mind to the Force as she waited for his first move. When the line of green flashed at her from the side, she blocked it quick as thought.

From then on, the fight was like a dance. Rarely had Aryn felt such an active communion with the Force, as she dodged and leaped, struck and parried. The universe bound by the Force was infinite, but at this place and time it narrowed in a joyful swirl to the balance between green and silver light.

Finally Aryn slipped on a smooth patch of flooring and came down on one knee, her lightsaber flying from her grasp. Before she could call it back to her, the point of Qui-Gon's saber was at her throat. "All right," she gasped, half-laughing. "I yield!"

Though she had lost the bout, Aryn couldn't stop smiling at Qui-Gon as he switched off his blade and stepped forward to help her up. His hand still embodied that gentle strength, but Aryn made sure to let it go promptly, once she had regained her feet. Calling her lightsaber to her hand, she hung it on her belt and then turned her smile to Tora. "That was wonderful!"

Tora smiled back and glanced from her to Qui-Gon. "Would you care to join us for a meal?"

"Oh, no thank you." Qui-Gon shook his head. "I need my rest as much as you do. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well." He bowed to Tora, and again to Aryn.

A short time later, Aryn tried to ignore Tora's pointed stare and eat. Finding that impossible, she dropped her fork and stared back. "I didn't realize there would be other Jedi here. This place is pretty out of the way."

Tora nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "According to Qui-Gon, he's traveling with some. . .friends. . .from the Outer Rim who owe him a favor, such as free transport." She laughed outright. "I met him in the cantina. He'd already heard several stories about that creature down at the mining site, and when I told him we'd been called in to investigate, he offered his help."

Aryn shook her head and picked up her fork again. "Still an odd coincidence, meeting another Jedi here."

Tora clucked disapprovingly. "There are no accidents. If that creature is truly Force-strong, another Jedi will come in very handy." Her tone lightened. "And, really, I don't think it was so bad for you to meet him."

The apprentice choked. "Master," she said when her throat was clear, "please don't make this any more confusing than it already is."

"Come now. He's handsome, gentle, and a competent Jedi. What more would you ever need?"

"Tora, please!"

Her master laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I teased you," Tora said quietly. "But don't you think I saw the way you looked at him, and for that matter, the way he looked at you? It's nothing to be ashamed of, and it doesn't have to interfere with your dedication to our ways. Don't be concerned." She rose and stretched before folding her bed down from the cabin wall. "Sleep well, Aryn."

Aryn did sleep well, without vivid dreams, and was able to concentrate in meditation the next morning. She finished that, however, with a palpable, if unfocused, sense of unease. She ate her breakfast in silence.

"Is there something wrong, Aryn?" Tora straightened from checking the _Star's Dream_'sengines.

"Yes. . .well. . .I don't know. I'm very uneasy all of a sudden, and I don't think I'm just nervous about our mission." The apprentice glanced about as if seeking an answer in the walls of the cabin.

Tora smiled, a peculiar soft expression that Aryn did not remember having seen on her master's face before. "You feel it too, hmm? Well, whatever hint we're being given through the Force is hardly clear." She looked deep into her padawan's eyes. "Focus on the moment, Aryn. That's what matters now."

"Yes, Master." Aryn watched as Tora went back to work, and wondered briefly. Tora was often serene, as befitted a Jedi, but even with the knowledge of this warning-assuming it was such-she seemed oddly content. Aryn stored the impression away for later pondering, determined to take Tora's advice to the full and focus on the moment.

Qui-Gon Jinn joined them a few minutes later. Aryn studiously kept her gaze on the pre-flight engine tests.

"How much piloting experience do you have?" Tora asked the Jedi.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "Quite a bit, but I'm not talented that way or anything."

"That's all right." Tora nodded to him. "Take the copilot's seat. There's some pretty strong current-winds near the site today, or so I've been told, and I don't want Aryn worn out before we land."

Aryn's hand tightened on her display, but she gave it up readily enough, knowing that her inexperience was real.

When Tora and Qui-Gon were satisfied with the ship's condition, the three Jedi strapped into their seats, Aryn in the spare one tucked into the back of the cockpit, and soared out of the docking bay above the gray gleaming ice and clouds of the planet Krey'el.

The glow of the system's sun flashed up from the thick swirling clouds over the mining site. A sharp mountaintop formed a shining island to the north, but the Star's Dream was heading right for the deepest banks of vapor.

"This is worse than I was told," Tora murmured. "Qui-Gon, do you think we can make landing at the mining site?"

The young man frowned, considering, then nodded. "I think so, though it will be rough. If we really need to land so close, that is."

"Yes, we need to." Aryn's voice surprised even her. She reached out further with the Force and touched again an icy vacuum of malevolent and hungry purpose-and it was centered at the mining site. "Can't you feel it down there, just waiting for some kind of prey to come along?"

First Tora and then Qui-Gon nodded. Aryn felt the impression from the creature on the surface change, and drew back, startled.

"It knows we're here," Qui-Gon said.

He turned the ship carefully downwards. Contradictory currents tossed it back and forth even before it reached the clouds. Once it broke through, they were flying in a blind whiteness. Even the instruments gave out fluctuating and unreliable readings. Tora handed pilot duties over to Qui-Gon and used the Force to pinpoint the landing site. Aryn felt the ravenous awareness of the creature below and devoted her energy to distracting it, trying to hide the descending ship.

_Star's Dream_ rocked violently, slewing from side to side. It spun about, and Tora cried, "Qui-Gon! You've overshot the site!"

"Damn these winds!" Qui-Gon hunched over the controls, and the ship shuddered between the storm's currents and the force of the Jedi's mind.

Suddenly everything seemed to drop. Aryn's stomach vaulted into her throat. "Brace yourselves!" Qui-Gon shouted.

The ship hit something with a shock like a knockout punch. Lights flickered, dimmed, and Aryn was slammed against her restraints and against the bulkhead. Dizzily she was surprised at how little it hurt.

Then all was still, utterly black, and the only noise was the faint hiss of hot metal cooling rapidly. Aryn slowly pushed herself upright in her seat, noticing how the floor slanted down towards the front of the ship. She unstrapped and eased forward in the dark. "Tora? Qui-Gon?"


	3. Part 2

"Here." Qui-Gon's deep voice answered her, weary and shaken.

"Tora?" This time no answer came. "Master?" Aryn felt on her belt for a glow rod, but hers was gone. She felt her way to the back of Tora's seat and reached around it.

The seat itself was twisted towards the wall of the cockpit. The older woman lay limp in her restraints. Something damp trickled down the left side of her face. Fear pounded a new rhythm in Aryn's heart as she touched Tora's neck, finding a faint pulse there. A Jedi is at peace, she reminded herself, but that did little to restore her calm.

Then a thought came to her, a single flash of clarity. "Did she cushion the landing for us? I'm not hurt at all, and I should be after hitting the hull like I did."

Aryn could hear Qui-Gon groping about the control panel. "Yes, she did. I managed to protect myself, even while I was piloting, but I think Tora protected both you and the _Star's Dream_." Aryn heard a click, and the pale light of a glowlamp showed the Jedi's face, drawn in concern.

Qui-Gon held the light near Tora's still form. The damp trickle of blood was from a cut just below her left temple. Above it the skin was dented and discolored. Her left arm was broken, the hand bent across her lap at an odd angle.

Aryn suppressed a cry of fear and pain, reaching out again to the Force for peace. Qui-Gon felt beneath Tora's console and handed Aryn another glowlamp. "Open one of the beds in the cabin. I'll get her loose."

Aryn scurried back up the slanting floor to the cabin. In the dim light of her glowlamp, she folded a bed down from the wall and braced it level with a spare tool kit under one end.

Qui-Gon ducked into the cabin from the cockpit, bent slightly under the fragile weight of Tora's unconscious body. He laid her gently on the bed, left side out so her injuries could be more easily dealt with. Aryn opened a medical kit and knelt by her master, wiping the blood from her face. The padawan pressed her fingers against the cut, felt the softness of shattered bone beneath them, and used the Force instead to stop the bleeding and a dermal rod to seal the cut. She held Tora's upper arm still while Qui-Gon straightened the forearm and wrist in one smooth pull, then snapped on a brace and bound it tight.

Aryn touched her master's forehead lightly, probing for a sense of her spirit. Qui-Gon's hand rested on her shoulder and her focus suddenly sharpened. Tora was still there-Aryn could feel her wisdom, her sharp compassion-but not in any form her padawan could communicate with. Aryn bowed her head, overwhelmed by seeing, as if for the first time, the lines in Tora's face and her silver hair. She sent words to her master, even knowing she could not hear them: Tora, Master, stay with us, stay with me, please. At least for now, stay with me. 

The hand on Aryn's shoulder tightened, warm with human comfort and understanding. She looked up and gave Qui-Gon a shaky smile. He returned it with an intensity that seemed to ask, Are you all right? Aryn nodded and remained by the bed.

Qui-Gon moved into the cockpit. His voice filtered back to Aryn. "It looks as if the ship is nearly buried in snow, though we must have hit either rock or ice to cut our power out completely. At least the snow will help us conserve heat."

Aryn listened to him with half her mind. The rest of it was concentrated on solving the riddle of something she felt she ought to remember, something that was missing even when she reached out through the Force.

That was it! Something was missing. She turned and called to Qui-Gon, "Sir! The creature we came here to hunt-I can't sense it anymore."

Qui-Gon poked his head back into the cabin. "What?"

Aryn repeated her comment and added, "I think it is Force-talented. I think it's. . . stalking us."

The young man was still for a moment, his eyes focused beyond the walls of the _Star's Dream_. Then he looked back at Aryn. "I think you're right. There's no way it would be so hard to detect unless it did not want to be noticed."

"What can we do?" Aryn asked.

"Well, first I'm going to see if I can open the hatch so we can get outside." Qui-Gon passed his hands over the smooth surface of the door. Aryn smiled at his puzzled expression, then used the Force to undo Tora's special lock and unfasten the door. The Jedi gave her an annoyed look before turning back to the door.

He pressed against it with both hands, first lightly, then harder, straining against the weight of snow outside as he channeled the power of the Force though his sturdy form. Slowly it opened outwards from the top. An icy wind and a dusting drift of snow blew in, and Aryn blinked in a sudden shaft of pale light.

"What. . . ?" Qui-Gon shielded his own eyes for a moment, then climbed up the door, thrusting his head and shoulders through the opening.

Aryn waited, shivering in the draught, and after a minute got out a blanket which she draped over Tora.

Presently the Jedi ducked back in, snow crystals in his hair and frost coating his mustache, and pulled the door to. He brushed the ice from himself briskly while Aryn rooted in a cupboard and found two portable heaters. One she pulled out, twisting the top to ignite it and setting it on the uneven floor. Tendrils of warmth crept into the cabin; Qui-Gon held out chilled hands towards the short cylinder and gave Aryn a distracted smile.

"The snow and wind have both slowed, and the clouds have thinned a bit, hence the light outside, but the storm seems far from over." He shrugged. "I saw no sign of our ravenous friend. The temperature is close to that on a Rim asteroid. We can't stand watch out there without using too much energy to create heat, or I would set a watch. If our quarry wants to play hide-and-seek through the Force, we need to be able to use our other senses as well." He fell silent, frowning at the warming cylinder.

Aryn's heart was pounding, but even through her trepidation she found her mind remarkably clear. She and Qui-Gon were both Jedi and they needed to work together, in both thought and action, if they were to complete their mission, survive, and save Tora's life. "We have another heater," she offered, "and some extra fuel."

Qui-Gon looked up, thoughtful. "We need to leave one in here," he said, "for Tora. The other wouldn't provide enough heat for both of us."

"We could take turns." Aryn glanced at the still form of her master. "Someone should stay with Tora anyway."

Qui-Gon nodded, his gaze still on her. "We'll have to watch each other's backs-but it could work." He stood. "I'll take first shift. Call me if you sense anything, or if Tora's condition changes."

Silently Aryn handed him the spare heater and a fuel pack. This time, when their hands touched, she made no move to withdraw hers. Qui-Gon smiled briefly, then turned, opened the door, and climbed out into the dimness and frozen wind. The hatch closed behind him, leaving Aryn in the hollow shell of the cabin, with the low light of the glowlamp, the faint heat from burning fuel, and the soft sound of Tora's unsteady breathing. She had never felt so desolate.

Which was nonsense, as she told herself a minute later. Qui-Gon was right outside, and if she stretched out through the Force she could sense his presence. She did so, and the amusement in his response banished some of her loneliness.

Aryn sat with her back to the wall of the cabin and closed her eyes. If she could locate any sensation from that creature, it would be a great help. Aryn reached out with her mind into a bewildering landscape of swirling white, seeking something that was neither snow nor ice. She only snapped out of trance once, when Tora's breathing momentarily changed rhythm. After it calmed, Aryn easily slipped back into trance. The endless white became overwhelming, and the padawan hardly noticed when meditation faded into sleep.

She woke to Qui-Gon's hand on her shoulder. "Aryn."

Aryn stood, forgetting in her daze the slanting floor, stumbled, and caught herself before falling. "Yes?" She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath to clear her head. "Has anything changed?"

Qui-Gon shook his head as he crouched by the heater, hands cupped about its cylinder. He was shivering violently; his hair and clothes were caked with snow, his cheekbones windburnt. "Not that I can see."

Aryn paused by Tora's bed. If anything, her breathing had steadied. The apprentice pulled another blanket over the frail figure. Then she stooped to the cupboard and drew out another fuel pack.

As she passed Qui-Gon, Aryn brushed a layer of ice from his shoulders. He smiled at her through stiff bluish lips but did not speak.

Aryn touched her lightsaber, making sure it was securely fastened to her belt. Then she pulled the gray hood over her head and opened the hatch.

She climbed out, bracing her feet and hands against the door and wall of the ship, onto a hard crust of snow. The wind caught at her robes, tossing back her hood and striking her face and body like a current of liquid ice. Snowflakes stung her exposed skin. One glance at what she could see of the sky through half-closed eyes told her at once why Qui-Gon had said nothing about communications. No message would get through this atmospheric mess. But, as Qui-Gon had said earlier, the wind seemed to have dropped, and while the snow fell thickly, it was no blizzard.

The cold was the main problem. It cut through layers of Aryn's clothes and quenched the warmth of her blood like poison. The air burned her mouth and lungs, tasting flat and metallic. Aryn turned stiffly, as if the movement might shatter her, and kicked the door closed. The motion restored some clearness to her numbed mind; she pulled her hood up again, drawing a fold across her nose and mouth, and took a step away from the ship.

The crust of ice gave alarmingly beneath her feet, but held. Aryn thought for a moment, then used the Force to lighten herself, putting only half her weight on the snow. She did not even leave footprints.

Pleased with herself, though starting to shiver, Aryn walked to the icy hole the heater had melted around itself. She lifted it and set in firmly several paces away. Then she replaced the fuel pack and felt a thin radiation of warmth emerge to be swallowed by the wind.

Aryn took rations from her belt pouch, suddenly hungry. Once she had eaten, she began to pace around the heater, keeping alert for any sign of the creature.

She continued this for a long time, pausing occasionally to warm her hands and feet at the cylinder. Several times she even picked it up and held it for a while. The snow lessened a little, but otherwise the weather remained the same. Aryn saw no sign of the creature and felt nothing of it through the Force, which puzzled her. Her breath formed a layer of frost inside her hood, and snow blew into all the crannies of her clothes, stiffening them.

As time drew on, the fuel in the warming cylinder ran low, and the heat grew gradually less. Aryn began using the Force to warm the air around her, but the effort tired her quickly. Not until she was sure that all the fuel in the heater was gone, and she was too weary from cold and mental strain to focus clearly did Aryn return to the ship.

Qui-Gon was bent over Tora when Aryn swung in through the hatch. The air was heavenly warm inside. She took off her cloak and shook the snow and ice from it, then knelt by the warming cylinder and spread her trembling hands out to catch its heat. "Is she doing all right?" Aryn asked through chattering teeth.

Qui-Gon rose and shrugged. "I'm no healer, but I was worried about that head wound and was trying to sense the extent of the damage. A medkit scanner can only tell you so much." His frown deepened.

"And. . . ?" Aryn prodded.

"I don't know." Qui-Gon sighed. "I may have been able to ease the pressure inside her skull, but she needs real medical care. I tried to contact her again and failed."

Aryn bowed her head. If Tora died, what would Aryn do without her? Whatever I have to, the apprentice told herself firmly. Tora prepared me to face the trials, I'm ready to become a Jedi. But she won't die if I can help it. 

Qui-Gon pulled up his hood and snapped their next-to-last fuel pack to his belt. "I'll be outside. Call me if you sense anything unusual." He climbed quickly through the hatch and kicked it shut behind him.

Aryn sat as close as she dared to the heater, absorbing its welcome warmth, and stretched her mind out through the Force. She had felt nothing while on watch, but now that she was in the ship, something had changed. There was a subtle difference in one spot out there somewhere, near yet not very near, like a sound just too high or too low to really hear. She tried to follow it, but it kept slipping in and out, and she was too tired for that kind of work.

Aryn stretched out on the floor and with a few deep, controlled breaths, put herself into a sleeping trance to maximize the amount of rest she could snatch in the next few hours.

Sometime during her sleep, the usually dreamless trance was interrupted by images: pale fur and scales, black slitted eyes, swift motion directed by a cunning mind.

A sudden jolt through the Force jerked Aryn upright, heart pounding and body flooded with adrenalin. She recognized that sensation, one of ravenous hunger, a terrible hunter's passion. It actually seemed fainter than what she had felt on their approach to the planet, yet nearer somehow. Qui-Gon's surprise and alarm had wakened her, and now Aryn sensed that he was too focused to call out again.

She snatched up her cloak, noting that it was almost dry. Her lightsaber was secure on her belt. Quietly Aryn pushed the hatch open. The light outside had diminished considerably since her watch, and she could see little, though the snowfall was even lighter than before. Late afternoon or evening, Aryn guessed. Before climbing out, she took a cue from the creature outside and put up a Force shield to keep it from sensing her. Then she shut the hatch and took a few steps forward, again making herself Force-lightened, scanning the landscape for Qui-Gon and the creature.

Before she found them, a shock of empathic pain and a sharp cry hit Aryn like a slap. Qui-Gon! she called, but received only more pain in response. Aryn focused on the sensation and turned to her left. There! A sleek body, nearly invisible against the snow, crouched about a hundred meters away. The small figure on the snow before it was Qui-Gon.

Aryn's training took over. In a split second she levitated herself into the air. Then she let herself drop, breaking through the crust of snow past her waist, and at the same time dropping her Force-shield.

The creature turned from Qui-Gon, sniffing delicately, padding across the snow on wide paws, its black eyes gleaming. All its attention was on this new prey, half-buried in snow and appealingly helpless.

Aryn struggled in the drift, its icy crust harsh against her hands. The beast paced in a wide circle around her.

Qui-Gon's mind touched Aryn's, this time free of pain. Be careful! 

Are you all right? she asked in return, as she slipped a hand down to her waist and retrieved her lightsaber. The Jedi sent back images of a claw slamming into his head, then the creature departing and the pain and dizziness brought under control by his focused mind. Beyond the feline bulk of the beast, a line of green fire appeared to quiet Aryn's fears.

In that moment of relief, she leaped from the hole, striking at the creature as she came down to land lightly on the snow. Instantly she dropped to one knee, switched off her lightsaber, and raised her Force-shield.

The creature paused, cupped ears twitching, and let out a nearly ultrasonic yowl of frustration. Slowly it paced toward Aryn, its eyes narrow black slits. She remained perfectly still, chagrined at missing a blow at such close quarters, and held her breath.

Qui-Gon approached the beast from behind. "Over here!" he shouted, and the pulse of his life through the Force was like a fire-beacon on this planet.

The creature turned, its jaw gaping in a hissing growl as it saw Qui-Gon's lightsaber. The Jedi leaped, but it dodged, and Qui-Gon had to leap again to avoid its lashing tail. They sparred back and forth, matching each other move for move. Aryn worried as she saw that Qui-Gon seemed a little less adept at anticipating the creature's movements than it was at anticipating his. Aryn's instincts battered her with that one thought: anticipate, foreknow. . . .

The apprentice closed her eyes and concentrated on the creature. Deeper and deeper into its distracted mind she went, trying to match every sensation to a thought or movement. She padded along on its wide paws, gazed through the eyes at the figure with the disturbing blade of light, felt the hearts beating in the thrill of the hunt and the mouth wet with hunger. She could see each motion of the creature before it was made, like shadows feinting right and left, forward and back.

Anticipate. . . anticipate. . . . Aryn gripped the hilt of her saber and straightened to a fighting stance. Qui-Gon went down, tripped by a quick paw. As he rolled back to his feet, he cut at the beast's leg. Its yowl of pain hurt Aryn's ears, but she paid no attention. Now! her mind screamed. Now! 

Aryn leaped high and forward, her Force-shield down, her lightsaber a blazing silver rod. She turned to match the movements of the creature and landed astride its supple shoulders. Her saber flashed down, slicing through skin, flesh, bone. The beast screamed and threw her.

She landed without breaking through, automatically rolling to avoid its tail. Her lightsaber stabbed out, and half the limb lay wriggling in the snow, staining it dark.

Aryn struggled to her feet. She was still deep in the creature's mind, and its blind fury and pain confused her, freezing her to that spot. Qui-Gon drove in at the beast, and it screamed again.

This had to end. Aryn ran forward. The creature turned and leaped at her, clumsy now, crippled. She met it face to face, dodged the snapping jaws, and brought her lightsaber down in a mighty stroke through its skull.

Agony doubled Aryn over like a hard blow. She staggered back, dropping her saber, and sidestepped the last twitch of the creature's claws as it fell heavily through the crust of snow. She felt what was coming next, but had no strength left to put up any kind of mental shield.

Confusion, pain, and fury, no longer blind, blasted through Aryn's mind, stabbing deep and exploding like a shrapnel bomb. For one second she wondered if a non-sentient could aim something like that so directly, and then even that thought was shredded. As if from far away, Aryn heard herself scream and felt her body convulse. Nothing existed but the pain, and then even that was gone.

There was nothing, complete and utter void, for a long time. Then a small gleam of awareness realized that something existed in the nothing: itself. Slowly the gleam grew. There had been something, once, it felt, and this void unsettled it. It groped for something solid in the nothing, something other than itself.

There! A soft tendril wrapped itself around the gleam, which grasped it tightly in a fit of relief at finding more something.

Words were in the tendril, or rather one repeated word:

Aryn, Aryn, Aryn. . . . 

The gleam was startled. My. . . my name? She held even more tightly to the tendril, which had become a strong line pulling her somewhere. Strong, warm, gentle, concerned. . . .

Love? the gleam asked herself. I'm holding onto. . . love? 

New sensations filtered in: mixed hot and cold, a movement of air, the tremor of a heartbeat, but under and through it all the lifeline that knew her name drew her. Aryn, Aryn, Aryn. . . . 

"Aryn."

She heard her name spoken aloud and her eyes flew open. A quick breath eased her tight lungs and made her wonder, How long has it been since I breathed? 

The face above her was dim in the pale glowlamp light, but she knew both it and the hand on her forehead. "Qui. . . Qui-Gon," she said weakly.

He let out a long shuddering sigh, cupped her face in both his hands and looked deeply into her eyes, as if searching for something. As Aryn smiled at him, he slowly smiled back. "Aryn. I thought for a while I'd lost you."

"You. . . called me back," she said, her tongue still slow. She tried to project the depths of her thanks through the Force, but somehow she couldn't. Weariness or shock, she told herself, and had to settle for trying her voice again. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," Qui-Gon told her gravely. "Without your aid and skill, I would now be that creature's breakfast. Or perhaps its dinner." Aryn would have giggled, but she still felt weak, and it was enough to be content in their safety. Qui-Gon turned his head and she saw stripes of dried blood matted in lines down the right side of his jaw. He caught her expression of concern and shook his head. "I'll be fine. You're all right?"

Aryn nodded and lifted a hand experimentally. "I think so." Qui-Gon took her hand and helped her to a sitting position. For one moment everything spun, then her head cleared and the cabin of the _Star's Dream _came into focus.

Qui-Gon propped her up against the wall. The slant of the floor puzzled Aryn until she remembered the accident and glanced over at the bed where Tora lay. The padawan stretched out through the Force, trying to sense her master, and felt nothing. "Is she worse?"

The other Jedi looked at Aryn in renewed concern. "No, in fact I think her condition has improved."

Aryn frowned and rubbed her temples slowly.

"Can you manage on your own for a while?" Qui-Gon asked. "I need to check on something."

Aryn nodded, and he ducked into the cockpit. A moment later he was back, digging through one of the cupboards. "I'm going to try to send a distress call. I think the clouds are clearing." His voice was almost light for the first time since they had landed.

The apprentice watched him pull out a small, smooth box. "Finally."

Qui-Gon grinned. "I'll be outside for a while. If you need anything, just call me."

"I will." Aryn shivered in the blast of cold air as Qui-Gon climbed through the hatch. It was black out there now, except for the tiny pinprick gleams of stars in the rapidly clearing sky. "Qui-Gon. . .how long was I out?"

He paused and looked back at her. "About two hours. That was plenty of time for the storm to scatter."

Aryn nodded again, and he climbed out and closed the hatch. She leaned her head against the wall in silent amazement. Two hours. He had been calling her for two hours. At any time he could have given up, and she would have been lost.

She closed her eyes, trying to relax and reach out to Qui-Gon through the Force, but found again that she could not. In fact, it felt as if the Force did not even exist. It was not just that she could not sense either Qui-Gon or Tora, but that she could sense nothing on this whole planet or anywhere in the universe. She was completely isolated, and could neither extend her own thoughts nor sense other living things nor put herself in trance, which she could always do, even when most exhausted. Aryn breathed deeply, trying to control the flash of fear that threatened to choke her. She was safe, soon a rescue would come, and perhaps Qui-Gon could tell her why she could not sense or use the Force.

The hatch opened again. Qui-Gon swung in and stood gazing at her. "Aryn, is something wrong?"

"You tell me," she said softly. "I can't sense or use the Force."

Qui-Gon stared at her, then sat cross-legged on the crooked floor, his expression neutral and focused. Aryn tried to focus on him in return but felt nothing.

Finally Qui-Gon sat back, rubbed a hand across his eyes, then ran it over his hair. "And you felt nothing just now?"

Aryn mutely shook her head. Qui-Gon took her hand and squeezed it. "I think you may still be in mental shock," he told her. "I felt just the edge of what hit you from that creature as it died, and it may take time for you to recover completely."

"Thanks, Qui-Gon." Aryn tried to smile. Qui-Gon pushed her hair back from her face and smiled back.

"I got the signal out. They've already acknowledged it and are sending a rescue shuttle." Qui-Gon knelt by Tora. "They should be here in a few minutes."

It wasn't even that long until the ship trembled as the shuttle landed. Qui-Gon opened the hatch and two men climbed in, one dressed as a miner, the other in a medic's uniform. Aryn watched as Qui-Gon spoke to them, directing the miner to the cockpit and the medic to Tora. A minute later the medic called to someone outside. The hatch suddenly opened much wider. Qui-Gon helped carry Tora out and then returned to Aryn, lifting her to her feet.

Aryn swayed, relieved at the rescue but overcome by weariness. Qui-Gon smiled in sympathy and then hefted her into his arms. As he carried her out of the ship, the wind cut into Aryn. Hands helped them across the snow, and then the brilliant light within the shuttle made her squint. Several people bustled around inside as Qui-Gon set Aryn on a seat and helped her strap in. Scraps of conversation leaked into her ears.

"Get out there with Jerin. He says it'll only take a few hours to have _Star's Dream _up and running." That was the pilot.

The medic interrupted her. "We've gotta get this lady up to the med unit on the station, or she ain't gonna make it."

His announcement jolted Aryn. Tora! She thrust out with her mind, trying to reach her master, feeling as though she were beating herself against a rock wall. Qui-Gon shook her gently. "Aryn! Relax." He rested a cool hand on her forehead and she felt her panic drain away and her tense body relax into sleep.


	4. Part 3

Aryn awoke in the Krey'el station's med unit several hours later, much refreshed, and found that what bruises and scrapes she had were healed. Everything seemed too quiet. The room was empty except for a medical droid, who asked how she felt and then hummed busily over an analysis panel.

Qui-Gon came smiling through a door in the far wall, startling her. "Good, you're awake."

Aryn noticed the absence of his almost-beard and the newly healed lines of skin down his jaw; but then she realized something with a start that swept all other thoughts away and snapped her eyes closed in consternation. She wasn't using her Force talents and that was why everything seemed so quiet, as well as why Qui-Gon had surprised her when he entered.

A hand touched her face, and she opened her eyes to Qui-Gon's concerned frown. "You still can't sense the Force?" Aryn shook her head, and Qui-Gon sighed. "I'm not sure what the problem is. Physically you are fine, rested, no permanent injuries. I even checked your midichlorian count. It's stable at your normal level."

After a moment he sat beside her and continued. "Tora is doing better. She woke for a while, and can hear us, but can't speak yet.

"I've contacted the Jedi Council. They are expecting us on Couruscant in three days. The_ Star's Dream _is nearly repaired, and we leave tomorrow. We'll be flying with my friends from the Rim, if that's all right with you."

Aryn smiled at him. "Yes."

"Oh, by the way." Qui-Gon pushed his cloak back, removed a small cylinder from his belt, and handed it to Aryn. "Your lightsaber."

Aryn's eager fingers caressed the hilt, and she pressed it to her. "Thank you, Qui-Gon."

"For what?" he asked.

"For everything you've done that you didn't need to do." Aryn's voice faltered. She placed a hand on the Jedi's shoulder. "For fighting with us, for arranging passage and rescue, for retrieving my lightsaber. . .for calling me back." She bowed her head in confused emotion, and Qui-Gon's hand closed comfortingly over hers.

The next few days were strange for Aryn. Receiving the thanks of the Krey'el Mining Company for ridding them of the creature, tending the half-conscious Tora, and taking on-the-spot piloting lessons from Qui-Gon while en route to Coruscant were nothing terribly stressful, but doing them without the Force was rough. Often throughout each day her mind slid into its patterns of training, reaching out only to be blocked or find nothing there.

This frustrated her most with Tora, who still could not speak. When conscious, her eyes followed Aryn with such an intent constancy that the girl became convinced that her master was trying to communicate through the Force. Aryn tried to explain that she was unable to hear thoughts right now. She thought Tora understood, but could not be sure.

In her pilot's lessons, Aryn found to her chagrin that her Force-blindness actually helped her focus on some of the basic skills which she had never mastered.

She and Qui-Gon spoke little on the trip, though he did tell her about the long mission on the Rim that had kept him a "padawan" in rank for nearly 4 years after he was ready for the trials. Aryn was quiet, trying to adapt her training to focus and calm her mind. She was worried about her own trials. If she could not sense the Force, she could not be a Jedi, and there was nothing else she had ever considered being. From her infancy she had been marked as a Jedi.

Qui-Gon never mentioned her trials, but every time Aryn found herself near despair, his smile and warm hand on her shoulder strengthened her.

When they reached Coruscant, Aryn left Tora in the care of one of the Jedi healers, a strong Twi'lek female named Nalee'niir.

Then she and Qui-Gon went to the Jedi Temple to report to the Council.

The twelve wisest Jedi in the Republic listened to their story in grave silence. They were very interested in the fact that a new non-sentient Force-talented species had been discovered, but said little. The Master of Healing assured Aryn that Tora would be given the best care-her death would be a great loss not only to her padawan, but to the entire Jedi Order.

Master Yoda spoke next, for the first time in this council. "Odd this is," he said softly, gazing intently at Aryn, "that cut off from the Force you seem to be. Study this I must, since the healers have no answer for us. Come." He beckoned to her.

Aryn approached the wizened figure and knelt before him, then placed her hand in the greenish claw he extended. He closed his eyes, and Aryn followed suit, suppressing the usual urge to giggle at the Master's scowl of concentration.

For a time nothing seemed to happen. Aryn held herself still, waiting. Then her breathing started to become difficult, and her heart began to race. It pounded in her ears, a rhythm that should have alarmed her but somehow didn't. She could hear nothing else, see nothing, feel not even Yoda's hand.

Then that was broken by the snap of a voice, "Master Yoda!" and a firm grip on Aryn's shoulders. She rocked back, trembling and gasping. Qui-Gon, of course. Aryn was alarmed now, at the tone her friend was using to address Yoda. "With all due respect, Master, why are you pushing her so hard? How will it help if she collapses here?"

Yoda took a deep breath, and Aryn blinked in surprise at the weariness in his eyes. "Defiance you show us? Needed that comment was not, Jedi. Watchful of yourself be, in the future."

"Certainly, Master."

Yoda turned to Aryn. "Go now, rest. Much is still hidden, but with time are things revealed." The wrinkled figure nodded. "If anything changes, speak to the Council you may. If not, we will call for you."

Qui-Gon helped Aryn rise. They bowed to Yoda and left the chamber together, Aryn still leaning on the young man's arm.

Once in the corridor, she turned to Qui-Gon. "That wasn't. . .necessary."

He shook his head. "You're about to collapse where you stand. A few more minutes and you would have passed out before the Council."

Aryn tried to pull herself upright in denial of Qui-Gon's statement, but found she trembled too much. "I. . . .Master Yoda knows what he's doing." The words came slow. "I want to be a Jedi. I've been training for it my whole life. If the Council can't help me regain my abilities, then who can?"

Qui-Gon turned her towards him, steadying her with a hand on each shoulder. "I don't have an answer for you, Aryn. I wish I did. All I know is that there are no accidents-and that you are destined to be a Jedi."

"I'll just have to wait and see, I guess," Aryn said with a sad laugh. "As Tora always reminds me, patience is a great Jedi strength."

Qui-Gon smiled, shaking his head, and turned to escort her down to the healer's rooms.

The next four days passed slowly. Aryn spent much time reading Jedi history and trying to meditate. She was gradually becoming accustomed to living without the conscious breath of the Force, but that didn't mean she liked it. She felt constantly empty, drained; and since she lived so near the Temple, she fought a continual battle against envy of other Jedi.

Aryn found some solace in caring for Tora under the supervision of Naleen, the Twi'lek healer. Tora was conscious most of the time now, though she could neither move nor speak. Her eyes followed Aryn constantly. Naleen had little encouragement to offer Aryn for Tora's complete recovery, saying only that it was possible, and dropping hints that Aryn's master was indeed communicating through the Force. Aryn wished desperately that something would change. Both she and her master were caught in a cycle of limitation-and Aryn had to admit that the patient Tora seemed to be handling it far better than her padawan.

Aryn did her best to settle her mind in imitation, and began to accept what she had told Qui-Gon: that she would just have to wait. So what happened on the eighth day since the battle came as an utter shock.

For most of the morning, Aryn was deep in the study of the long-ago Sith War. Something began to nag at the back of her mind, but she was so focused on the story that she paid it no attention. After midday Aryn settled down with one of her favorite texts, the tale of Jedi Nomi Sunrider. She was tired and soon began to doze.

In her dreams Tora was scolding her for idleness. "Wake up, you sluggard! There is a time for patience and a time for action. I never taught you that patience equals laziness. Aryn!"

The young apprentice sat up, listening. Had Tora actually spoken? No, of course not. . . . But out of a yet-unbroken habit, Aryn reached out through the Force. For a moment a terrified pain pressed inside her and then she felt a flood of approval-coming from Tora.

"Master!" Aryn gasped, turning towards the bed. "Did I-did you just?"

Another flood of affirmation. Yes, Aryn, yes! Tora's eyes glimmered, and her lips twitched in a smile.

Aryn reached out again. The effort still hurt, like trying to shove herself through a jagged hole, but she could sense the Force all about her: in the gardens of the Temple, in the Council chamber where the twelve were meeting, in the practice rooms and the hangar bays and the medical ward, all over Coruscant, and filling the universe itself. And most of all her master. Aryn flung her arms around Tora, tears streaming down her cheeks. Now everything was clear. Whatever barrier had kept her imprisoned had been powerful, and Qui-Gon could only call her through part of it. It had taken Tora, who knew Aryn better than anyone else, to shatter the rest and bring Aryn back to herself.

Tora moved one hand and Aryn lifted it, holding it to her own cheek. Something washed through Aryn, melting the harsh edges of pain that still remained in her mind. Tora's eyes fluttered closed.

Master? 

Go, Tora said. It is past time for your trials. Go. 

Aryn stood, half unwilling to leave. Naleen rushed in and bent over Tora, headtails twitching in worry, and waved Aryn away.

Thank you, Master, Aryn said privately as she left, and thought she heard a soft chuckle in response.

Two hours later, Aryn rose from a meditative posture, feeling as though her joy must be shining from her like a beacon. She had not quite trusted Tora's evaluation that she was truly ready for the trials, and had returned to her quarters to test herself. Every Force-based exercise flowed like her own thoughts, the visible power of her lightsaber was within as well as outside her, and her meditation had brought her a deep peace beyond anything she had known before.

Aryn activated her comm unit and, after leaving a message at Qui-Gon's temporary quarters, put a call through to Master Yoda. His wise face peered at her from the screen. "Changed things are, eh?" He spoke before she could.

"Yes, Master." Aryn straightened. "My Master, Tora Napren, told me to report to you. I am to face the trials."

Yoda nodded slowly. "The timing of the Force this is. Be at the Council chamber two hours from this time." His image faded.

Aryn smiled. Her pulse beat faster in anticipation, but the calm she had gained stayed with her. Master Tora, I won't fail. I promise. 

Late that night, Aryn knelt before the members of the Jedi Council. The tests had been difficult, the lightsaber practice wearying, but she had gotten through them all, and the Force had been strong with her.

One of the Council members approached Aryn, taking the lightsaber from the padawan's belt and igniting it.

Yoda raised a hand. "Accept the responsibilities as well as rank of Jedi do you?"

Aryn looked steadily into his eyes. "I am a Jedi. I improve myself through knowledge and training. As a guardian of peace in the Republic and beyond, I will use my powers only to defend and protect, never to attack others. I will respect all life, in any and every form. I serve the light side of the Force."

Yoda lowered his hand, and a tiny smile crept over his features. "Aryn Kh'il, no longer apprentice are you. Carry the full rank of Jedi Knight you now do."

The woman holding Aryn's blade lifted the tiny braid that marked the girl as a padawan apprentice and severed it with one touch of the saber. It fell to the floor, releasing a faint smell of scorched hair. "Rise," Yoda said, "and may the Force be with you as you serve life, peace, and the Republic."

Aryn stood, lifting the severed braid and tucking it into her pocket. She bowed to the Council, then accepted her lightsaber, hung it on her belt, and left the chamber.

Qui-Gon was waiting outside. "You passed the trials," he observed, then surprised Aryn with a hug. "Congratulations! How. . . what changed?"

Aryn fell into step beside him. "Tora. Somehow she worked and broke through whatever was blocking me. I need to go see her now. Would you like to come?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and they continued down the corridor in happy silence.

In Tora's room, Qui-Gon stopped at the door. Aryn stepped softly forward and knelt at the Jedi's bedside. Her eyes were closed, and every line in her pale face was deep with weariness. "Master Tora?"

When she failed to respond, Aryn used the Force to call her. Tora? I have good news. She pressed the severed padawan braid into her master's limp hand.

Tora's mouth curved a little and her fingers tightened around the braid, though her eyes did not open, and a surge of knowing pride spilled into Aryn's mind. You passed. 

"That's right." Aryn spoke both aloud and mentally. "I'm a Jedi now. I want you to know I would never have come this far without you." Then she added silently, You gave me a great gift today; it must have cost you strength. Thank you, Tora. Aryn poured all the love and gratitude she could into that sending. It came back to her with a strength and joy that banished any nervous thoughts about being on her own. Gently Aryn lifted Tora's hands and kissed them.

Naleen entered, concern creasing her white face. "This one is very worn." Her voice was all cool authority. "It would be best if you left now, at least until she is rested."

Aryn nodded and laid Tora's hands on the blanket, saying, Farewell for now. I will see you again, soon. Tora responded with a faint farewell of her own. As Aryn left, she glanced back once, feeling an odd little stirring in her heart. But she never doubted that Tora would recover.

Early the next morning one of the Council members, an Iktotch named Cresei Tiin, called Aryn and told her that her abilities to sense intent and meaning were needed in opening relations with a new race at the edge of Republic territory. Translation work. Several other Jedi were also assigned to the mission, and they would be leaving immediately. Aryn swallowed her protest that she was needed here with her master-she really wasn't, after all-and allowed the excitement of her first mission as a Jedi Knight to take its place. She packed as quickly as she could and headed for the transport ship.

Qui-Gon met her unexpectedly at the docking platform. "I'll watch out for Tora and the ship while you're gone, if that will help," he offered. "I don't expect a new assignment for a couple of weeks."

His beard had begun to grow again, and his hair was loose about his shoulders. Aryn took his hand and pressed it, feeling his gentle strength more attractive than any time since the crash, and trying to hide it behind a warm smile. "Thank you. I'd appreciate it."

The translating work was absorbing, and Aryn found that she was not only good at it, she enjoyed it. The three Jedi she traveled and worked with were kind and helpful, with only one being a bit condescending. Aryn heard little from Coruscant, only one message from Qui-Gon that assured her that Tora still lived, though she had drifted back into a coma.

Then, a week to the day of her departure from Coruscant, Aryn was sitting in conference with the alien ambassadors and the other Jedi when she felt a tremor, a small change, a sudden tingle that dispersed throughout the Force. It lasted only a second, and she was unsure of what it boded. So she put it out of her mind, and concentrated on the moment.

When she returned to her quarters after the conference, a message on Aryn's comm screen showed that Qui-Gon had tried to contact her. She sat down to eat, wondering if she should return the call, and the tremor she had felt weighed her heart down.

Halfway through the meal, her comm unit sounded. It was Qui-Gon again. Aryn put him through to her screen. The moment his face appeared, Aryn knew what she had felt during the conference. The weight inside her twisted into a frozen knot.

"Aryn. I'm glad I reached you. Something has happened that you need to know about." His face was serious, his eyes shadowed.

Aryn already knew. "Tora," she said heavily.

Qui-Gon nodded soberly. "Yes. She died about two standard hours ago." He searched her still face before continuing. "Naleen did all she could, but as you know, Tora slipped into a coma the day after you left. She never woke."

Aryn could hardly think. She felt she had to say something, and latched onto one feeling that she instinctively caught. "Qui-Gon, did the Council have anything to say about your contacting me?"

Qui-Gon smiled ruefully. "You're too sharp. Yes, they were against it. They said you needed to be able to concentrate on your mission." He shrugged. "I knew you must have felt it when she died."

Aryn sighed. "Qui-Gon, you shouldn't have gone against the Council. But. . . thank you."

"You're welcome."

Aryn closed her eyes, suddenly truly hearing the words about Tora's death: _slipped into a coma the day after you left. . . . she never woke. _She remembered her farewell to Tora, thanking her for the "great gift" she had given Aryn, the return of her Jedi abilities. She gave me back myself, at the cost of herself! The young Jedi's hand went to her face as the frozen knot inside her shattered, and hot tears burned her eyes.

"Aryn," Qui-Gon's voice was gentle. "I'll be bringing the _Star's Dream _out to you in a day or two. Tora wanted you to have it, and I've just been assigned to do some reconnaissance near the border where you're working." Aryn nodded in acknowledgment, then fumbled for the control to sever the connection as her tears spilled over.

During the next two days, Aryn found that her work and meditation eased the pain a little, and she could still focus well. But when she went down to the docking bay to meet Qui-Gon, the sight of the _Star's Dream _was hard to bear. The smooth pale skin, gleaming like fire, the name written in delicate Alderranian script across the bow, the grace with which it glided into the bay, all spoke to Aryn of Tora. She entered before the hatch had opened and touched the ship reverently, remembering-especially remembering the peace in Tora's face the morning before the crash, and wondering. Did she know what would happen? Had she chosen, even then, to give that much to me? 

Qui-Gon opened the hatch and stood behind her. "The ship's all yours. I'll be in this system for several days if you decide you need some more coaching as a pilot."

Aryn turned with a smile and damp eyes. This time she gave Qui-Gon a hug. "I'd love it."


	5. Epilogue

Aryn sighed and began braiding her hair back from her face, hair not gray only because of a genetic quirk in her maternal line. Thirty years, she marveled. Those days of pilot training were among the happiest and the most sorrowful in her memory. She had gained an invaluable friend. Qui-Gon was someone she trusted implicitly, and he had rarely disappointed her. They had gone on several missions together or as part of a group, and though they lost track of each other for years at a time, whenever they met, it was as though they had never been apart. Aryn was more than content with their friendship, always knowing that somewhere in the galaxy there was one person who understood her completely, though she had wondered a few times what a deeper relationship, allowing them to be always together, would have been like. But she had never pursued that.

Now she would never get the chance. And only now, when he too was gone, did she realize the depth of her love for this gentle, compassionate man, and the depth of the part he had played in her life.

Grief was different for her this time, not the difficult acceptance with hot tears that Tora's death had sparked when she was young. It was instead a slow crushing ache inside, something that would never leave completely, a vacuum that could never be filled. She didn't want it to be.

Aryn watched the sun set beyond the towering buildings of Coruscant, her mind suffused with the memory and face of her friend, and quietly wept until she had no tears left. Too exhausted to think or meditate, she stretched out on the floor and slept, with one hand curled around the hilt of her lightsaber.


End file.
